


JUDGMENT

by PKA



Series: Major Arcana [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, But does Hannibal love Will?, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Sharing a Bed, Teasing, The answer is yes but Will is an idiot so, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKA/pseuds/PKA
Summary: Will tries to figure out if Hannibal truly is in love with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kellucydar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellucydar/gifts).



> Kellucydar was one of the winners of my 200 follower giveaway and they wanted a teasing Will, testing his power and trying to determine if Hannibal truly is in love with him.  
> This first chapter is more of a foundation of the themes. We'll get into the teasing in the chapters to come. I wanted this to be a seperate chapter because it's very much in Will's head. We'll get more physical, don't worry. ; )  
> I hope you enjoy it!

  


They slept in the same bed now, after the night that Hannibal had stood in his room, tearing his stitches while telling Will that he had dreamed about him dying.

After that, Will had moved from Abigail’s old room to Hannibal’s bed.

They lay together, but not close. Hannibal was unmoving in sleep and Will kept to his own side of the bed, back turned to the other human presence. Only on some nights would Hannibal turn and press against him, mouth on his neck and arm around his waist. Will never said a word about it in daylight.

Hannibal was better now, more lucid, the fever almost gone. Soon they would be able to move on, leave their old lives behind once and for all. If Will was so inclined. 

Some days, when Hannibal was fast asleep behind drawn curtains, Will would stand close to the eroding bluff, at the precise point where he had dragged Hannibal over, and stare into the ocean. Despite the odds, they had survived. Now the Dragon’s corpse floated down there, waiting to be found. Will thought about joining him, alone. Call the FBI, tell them where they could find Hannibal and jump back into the Atlantic. Test fate again. The ever-changing glint of the waves tempted him. Without Hannibal, he knew, he would not escape the sea’s hungry maw a second time. 

Hannibal had saved him, laid down his life for him; not once, but twice. For a while, Will had doubted that he would survive the aftermath of the fall; his gunshot wound had become angrier by the day. But the bullet hadn’t pierced anything vital and Will had done what he could. He had stitched his own wounds first, and then he had taken care of Hannibal. He had washed him and clothed him and fed him and held him when Hannibal had called his name from deep inside his fever dream, needing soothing caresses on skin that had not been touched in three years.

Will had asked him, not just once, if he were going to live. He had entertained the thought, not just once, of ending his suffering by means of a quick, merciful death. He knew, even then, that their fates were irrevocably linked—neither of them would die or live without the other any longer.

Before they moved on, to Europe or Argentina or Cuba or wherever, Will needed to be certain. Not only did he feel the need to reflect upon his own feelings, but Hannibal’s as well. He had spent eight months obsessing over what could have been had he gone with Hannibal, and another three years trying not to and failing. He didn’t want to imagine things anymore. He wanted to know. He had made his own decision when he had thrown them both off the cliff and he wanted to make his own decision now, elements of control still in his hands, with Hannibal in no position to dictate or manipulate him.

So he deliberated and assessed, day after day, all while caring for Hannibal in the silence of his clifftop safe house.

He didn’t come to a conclusion, however, until the night Hannibal became lucid again.

Waking in his arms had become a familiarity by then, but that night, Hannibal’s possessive embrace was especially strong. Stronger than that which an unconscious person could manage.

Will tried to turn around and Hannibal let him, easing his grip until they were facing each other, bodies touching from chest to toe.

“You are alive,” Hannibal said.

Seeing his own face reflected in the wondrous and wondering dark of Hannibal’s clear pupils, Will knew, both intuitively and intellectually, that he loved him.

Shame at the admission crawled under his skin, licking at his flesh like flames. He swallowed. Now all that remained was discovering if Hannibal was able to love him in the same way.

“I am.” He brought a hand to Hannibal’s head and stroked over the lines of his face. Eyes closing, Hannibal held more tightly onto him.

“So you made your decision. You refused the calling of the sea.”

“There was a wisdom in me that finally came to light.”

“And what wisdom would that be?”

“I am not at the mercy of anyone’s judgment but my own.”

_I don’t have to justify my love for you anymore. Not to my wife, not to me, not to you. But you already know, don’t you?_

Hannibal smiled, eyes still closed. “You have to allow yourself to learn from the consequences of your actions, to understand that every choice you make will bring about significant change. Though you value your past and what it taught you, it is over. Your wounds will heal, your memories no longer haunt you. Your guilt will perish, over time. Tell me, Will, what change will this last choice of yours bring?”

Will leaned forward until their lips were almost touching. “Happiness”, he whispered against Hannibal’s mouth. “I want to be happy, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s breath was warm on his lips and gone again when his breath hitched. “So you shall be.” His pupils grew larger. “On your own path, with my guidance.”

Will waited but Hannibal was silent and still. He thought of the Dragon again, of the way they had slaughtered him together, his hot blood pulsing over Will’s hands, bathing him in life. That was the path Hannibal wanted him to take. Wanted _them_ to take, together.

“With your guidance”, he repeated dryly. He continued looking at Hannibal for a long while, so close, lost in the shining brightness of each other's eyes, and, when he remained unmoving, eventually turned his back to him again.

In the desperate moments before the fall, something had awoken inside Will. Some raw, dark thing that he knew needed to be satisfied were he to survive.

He had decided to fight it. Now, with both himself and Hannibal alive and well, it was time to ascertain if their needs could be compatible.


	2. Chapter 2

Although Hannibal was awake now often, regaining more of his energy and wits every day, they barely spoke during the sunlight hours.

They shared a bed still, bodies finding their own way of communicating, migrating toward each other in the night. Hannibal touched him often, almost unconsciously, either while waking or falling asleep. A loving, innocent caress on his arm or hip or shoulder that Will allowed himself to enjoy when he was sure Hannibal could not see his expression.

There had been no change, no progress in their relationship. It was there between them, this huge, unspeakable thing called love, and they both felt the need to resolve the tension before they departed. The FBI were closing in; it wouldn’t be long until they were found. And yet they stayed.

When finally it was too much, the silence and the stagnation unbearable, Will returned to the solitude of Abigail’s old room, trading a warm body for long-dead shadows.

It was miserable there—not because the interior reminded him of the months of Abigail’s short life that he had missed, but because it felt so different than he had expected. The books she had read, the piano she had played, the conversations with Hannibal etched into the walls—it seemed foreign, as if Will occupied the room of a girl he was unfamiliar with; a daughter of Hannibal he had never truly known, seen only through a pair of tinted glasses.

Staying in that room lengthened the distance between them, not just geographically. Will thought of uncovered things in his mind—of the way Abigail’s ear had found its way into his stomach; of the way Hannibal had lied to him about her; of the way he had taken hold of her hand before he had slit her throat. Will thought about these things long and hard, and was not surprised when his feelings stayed the same. The time for judgment had come to an end, had been concluded the night he had told Hannibal he wanted to be happy—with him.

Will waited for Hannibal in the darkness, hoping he’d come and tell him of his dreams again. A reason to crawl back into his bed, return to comforting touches, allow things to progress naturally, by way of wandering hands and seeking mouths.

He didn’t come.

Autonomy. Happiness. Two things that had become irreconcilable since he had found the man who truly understood his inner workings. He hadn’t believed himself so trapped—not until Bedelia had asked him if he ached for Hannibal as well. That had undone him. And then he had tried to undo them both, dragging them over the edge.

But they had lived. They had both lived, with Hannibal breathing and walking and able to talk, but not wanting. They lived and Will needed to find a way, some way, to empower them to live with each other.

His opportunity came days later, when Hannibal first mentioned the boat.

Will had assumed they would make their great escape inland, but maybe it was smarter to travel down south via the Chesapeake Bay. They hadn’t yet talked about where they would head next, south or east across the Atlantic, but it hardly mattered. Hannibal needed Will to make sure the boat was seaworthy in any case.

They drove the stolen police car out to the jetty and still they didn’t talk. Will looked to the sea, reminded of how they had reached the shore; of how he had dragged Hannibal’s unconscious body back to the house. He had no recollection of how, frozen and numb and hurting all over, he had managed it.

It was warmer now than it had been, spring finally on its way, but the sky above them was cloudy and the air still cold. The winter tarpaulin fluttered in the nippy wind and they took it off together to uncover the boat.

It was a lovely thing, sleek and sporty, maybe 30 feet long. Rather old but, as in the case of the Bentley Hannibal used to drive, made to last. Will checked the hull first, making sure that the winters it had spent in ice water had not hurt the synthetic fiber. It was brown with shells and green with algae but seemed sound at first glance. He made his way on deck, checked the equipment and the cockpit and, happy with what he found, went below.

A few steep stairs led down from the helm into the living quarters. The air was stagnant but free of mold—a good first sign. There was plenty of room for a boat of this size, and it was partitioned nicely: two double berths, one at the bow and one at the stern; a toilet; a parlor with a wooden kitchen that would suffice for basic meals; and a small saloon adorned with an especially ugly blue sofa. It felt like a family boat, lacking all of Hannibal’s usual splendor. It was obvious that he had never spent much time on it.

Will took a look at the motor. It had been exchanged a few years ago—a Yanmar, one he was not familiar with. He didn’t spot a problem straight away, apart from the fact that it needed cleaning.

Hannibal had joined him below deck in the meantime. He stood in front of the small pantry, distaste obvious on his face. He looked out of place here, as if the cramped rooms were too small to hold him.

“The whole thing needs to be cleaned up,” Will said and he nodded, almost enthusiastically.

“What do you need?”

“Tools, for starters,” Will said, leaning against a wall. “I’ll take the motor out, make sure everything’s alright. Better to find a problem now than to have it stop working on the open sea.”

It would be messy but manageable, and it would give him something to do. And there was something else, too; a chance, newly presented, that would help him push their relationship forward.


	3. Chapter 3

Will was bent over the motor, working on cleaning small, delicate parts. He had abandoned his shirt a while ago--the air in the boat had become unbearably hot and the grease that covered his hands and arms would have been impossible to get out of the fine clothes Hannibal had prepared for him. It was exhausting labor, especially for one not entirely up to full health, and he had to stop from time to time, righting himself and sighing heavily, sweat stinging in his eyes.

Hannibal buzzed around the boat like a firefly, cleaning up after Will and bringing him tools when he asked for them. Will kept an eye on him, watching for a reaction to his half-naked state. Hannibal was restless, but that didn’t have to mean much. Being bound to a bed for weeks would do that to any man.

Eventually, the search for something to drink brought Will to the kitchen. Hannibal stood in front of the stove preparing lunch. He opened the fridge for Will, passing him a bottle of cooled water in the process.

“Thanks,” Will said, waiting until their eyes met before he began drinking. He downed the bottle of water in long gulps, cherishing the clear, cool taste and the invigorating effect. He noticed with some satisfaction that Hannibal’s eyes wandered lower, over his exposed torso, lingering at the scar, and back up again to observe the movements of his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“What are you making?” Will asked once he put down the emptied bottle.

“White asparagus with Hollandaise sauce and potatoes.” The usual enthusiasm about his food was missing.

“All of it from cans?”

The corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitched. “Yes.”

“Impressive. Vegetarian too.”

“I thought you might prefer it.”

Will thought about it for a moment. “It was never about that for me. I knew what you were and I ate at your table, willingly.”

Hannibal consumed that information with just the faintest shine of hunger in his eyes. “How is the inspection coming along?”

“Good. Should take me a few more hours, then we can check if she’s working or not.”

“You should eat first.” Hannibal’s eyes roamed over his body again. Will had not eaten much in the last few weeks, and his body was still covered in wounds and bruises. “Go clean up and join me at the table after.”

~ - ~

There was wine on the boat, of course there was. It was too early in the day and Hannibal wasn’t nearly healthy enough to drink, but neither of them said anything about it. The mood had shifted—despite the furniture so unlike Hannibal’s usual design, they were back in his dark, blue-walled dining room, sharing a meal and talking in quiet voices. Will could smell the fresh herbs and the candle wax, could feel the quality of the cutlery in his hands. He had missed it.

A thought had occupied the spaces of Will’s mind ever since he had set foot on the vessel, a thought that seemed to confirm his suspicions. It seemed like a good opportunity to confront Hannibal with it.

“The boat was for the three of us. Abigail in the bow and you and me…” He left the sentence unfinished and drank from his wine. “When did you start wanting me like that?”

Hannibal met his gaze levelly. “I would have slept here, on the sofa, had you preferred it that way.”

Will sighed and shook his head.

“Have you grown tired of me already?” Hannibal sounded like a sullen child.

“Not of you. Of this. Of… silence and vagueness and sins of omission.” Will swirled the red wine in his glass, watching the ripples. “Be straight with me for once, Hannibal.”

“What would you have me say?”

“I know what you think and feel and want, in most cases. But, as our past establishes, no matter how conjoined we are, there is still distance left between us. I need you to fill the gaps, Hannibal. I need you to tell me or this won’t work.”

“A wonderful gift; to be able to spend time together and get to know each other so completely.”

“Yes. But only if you work with me. Tell me,” Will said again, slowly. _Every choice you make will bring about significant change,_ he thought. “Tell me what fills the vast capacities of your mind.”

He heard the cogs clicking in Hannibal’s head, his mind racing to catch the trap he was sure Will had laid out for him.

“Be blunt,” Will demanded.

“I want you, Will. In whatever form you’ll allow me to have you.”

A smile spread on Will’s lips as the hook snagged. 

“Thank you,” he said, cutting off another piece of asparagus. It wasn’t until he had chewed and swallowed it that Hannibal continued his meal as well.

~ - ~

Will let him dangle. After a few days of work on the boat, they took her out for a test drive. Will pressed against Hannibal’s back when he showed him how to work the helm and Hannibal leant back fractionally, enjoyment undeniable. He seemed to blossom beneath the brief touch, closing his eyes for just a second, and Will decided it was enough.

All was well with the boat. They would leave soon—pack their things and be off. All that was left now was to give Hannibal one final push.

“I thought about this when I crossed the ocean to find you,” Will said, eyes skimming over the water. “What it would have been like, escaping with you and Abigail. Being the family you envisioned us to be.”

Hannibal said nothing.

“And without her, too, once I understood why you did it. Once I forgave you. I imagined the two of us together, as partners. Equals. We could have—”

The kiss cut off his words, but didn’t take Will by surprise. The boat motor hummed in his ears and Will smiled, leaning into the sensation of Hannibal’s soft lips on his own at last.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! 1500 words instead of the usual 1000. Hope you enjoy the rest of this fic. If you did (or if you didn't!) please feel free to leave a comment. I love to hear my reader's opinions! : )

They made their way down the treacherous stairs blindly, stumbling toward the bed in the stern that Hannibal had intended for them to share years ago. Once they had begun touching, there was no stopping—an invisible force kept them stuck together, a magnet pulling them closer and closer into the intimate embrace they had denied each other for so long. 

Hannibal opened his mouth to Will once they had fallen onto the sheets together. Their tongues brushed against each other tentatively, warm and wet. Hannibal’s stubble prickled on Will’s lips and it felt like coming home.

Will wriggled closer, nearer to his warmth, greedy fingers exploring first above and then beneath his clothes. Hannibal sighed against him, pulled him in and they stayed like that, kissing experimentally and blissfully until both of their bodies betrayed their urges. Clothes were discarded in a flurry and soon they moved against each other with little skill or care, trapping moans with mouths and sighing endearments into skin.

“Turn around,” Will murmured against Hannibal’s lips, and he obeyed, rolling onto his other side so Will could press against his back.

“Lube?” Will asked, confident that Hannibal had prepared the boat for this eventuality without even giving it a second thought.

And indeed, Hannibal stretched his arm to open a cupboard. Will, impatient, rolled halfway on top of him in his hurry to grab the tin, unscrewing the lid and pushing his fingers into the cool liquid. He was eager now, and aroused, and he wanted to feel Hannibal around him sooner rather than later. Will daubed a fair amount of lube between his legs and Hannibal pushed his thighs together without having to be asked. A moment later, Will’s cock lay heavy between warm, slick flesh.

He gasped at the feeling and began pounding straight away, pushing deeper into welcoming warmth. They had started on their sides, but soon Will directed Hannibal to lie on his stomach, face hidden in the pillow. Will was fervent, almost careless, and gave in to the mindless rush of the moment. Although denied any direct stimulation, Hannibal seemed to enjoy it too, reaching back to grab onto Will, moaning at each hard, deep thrust. He even canted his hips the way a woman would, changing position, allowing Will deeper between his thighs. It was glorious, wet and soft, almost velvety.

Hannibal’s body and mind yielded for him, allowing closeness and connection beyond even the bond they had had before. Even as he still rutted against Hannibal, smacking against his legs with wet noises, Wil thought about the next step; about what would happen when the immediacy of the moment was gone, when Hannibal would truly allow him inside. And he had no doubt that he would.

Will came at that thought, shuddered and panted, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Hannibal’s back, tasting the salt on his skin.

Pleasure and tiredness filled him in equal measure and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to breathe in the scent of Hannibal with his face buried in his flesh. Will couldn’t pinpoint what he smelled like—some mixture of his specific body odour and expensive cologne—but it was intoxicating. It had been ever since he had started sharing Hannibal’s bed, and it was especially so now, making him want to stay right there and doze off against him.

He forced himself to open his eyes and lever himself up on his arms, touching Hannibal’s shoulder to coax him to turn around.

He met him with a wet kiss, tongues sliding together again tenderly, some of the heat—but none of the passion—gone. Will found his way back between Hannibal’s legs and into his embrace, Hannibal’s hardness pressing against him firmly and insistently. For a moment Will forgot how to breathe, so consumed by the intensity of the kiss, and when he pulled away to fill his lungs he gazed down at Hannibal, who raised a hand to stroke Will’s cheek, drawing patterns on his sweaty face.

Hannibal’s face had flushed; his cheekbones were red from arousal, his eyes even darker than usual. Will’s gaze wandered—over small, hard nipples, following the trail of fuzzy hair that covered Hannibal’s torso, to his cock, still red and hot and wanting, and settling eventually on his legs, spread lazily, shining with lube and cum.

He licked his lips at the sight of his partner; and a moment later Hannibal’s thumb, which had lingered at the corner of his mouth, pushed past his teeth to meet his tongue. Will sucked at the digit, watching Hannibal’s face intently. Hannibal’s eyes grew darker still before they fluttered shut momentarily. His mouth opened in sympathy, the tiniest moan escaping him. He withdrew his finger, smearing a wet streak across Will’s lips and swallowing in the process.

There was no need to say the words for Will to understand what he wanted.

Will bowed his head and kissed the center of Hannibal’s chest, fluffy white hair beneath his lips. He worked his way down slowly, kissing every inch of skin in devotion. Hannibal had thrown his head back onto the pillow, exposing his neck. His hand rested in Will’s curls, stroking affectionately.

For a while, Will teased him, placing kisses everywhere but the place Hannibal wanted them. He showed mercy eventually, however—he had played with him enough in the past couple of days.

Hannibal was hot and unfamiliar against his tongue, his skin softer than expected which made Will careful. He wasn’t overtly big, Will didn’t think, but he stretched his mouth and the still-fresh wound on his cheek began smarting straight away.

Will took him whole, ignoring the weird, salty taste, the way more liquid accumulated in his mouth. This wasn’t about his own pleasure; and Hannibal seemed to enjoy it, his moaning louder now than ever. He thrust upwards into Will’s mouth, and Will gagged, retreating momentarily to catch his breath, saliva dripping from his mouth onto Hannibal’s spit-shining cock, before he dove back down again.

It didn’t take much longer. Hannibal whispered his name, a sound full of adoration, and that was all the warning Will got before he came in his mouth, hot and wet and pulsing.

He tried to swallow but the taste was too strange, too unwelcome. A little bit of semen drooled right back out of his mouth onto Hannibal’s stomach; the rest he kept in his mouth, unsure what to do with it.

He heard a breathy chuckle. “My sweet Will.”

Hannibal took his face between his hands and drew him up and closer, lips meeting once again. Will kept his mouth shut, but Hannibal pried it open with his tongue, inviting him to pass the liquid. Will made a horrified sound at that and tried to pull away, but Hannibal held him tightly. He succumbed and allowed Hannibal’s tongue to explore the taste of himself inside his mouth. It was embarrassing, intimate and, although difficult to admit, arousing to swap Hannibal’s release, letting him consume his own spend from Will’s lips. He relaxed against Hannibal fractionally, soothed by the contact, until they were entirely melted against each other. Kisses turned sloppy and languid, and soon they stopped entirely, both happy just to hold each other.

They didn’t talk. There’d be time for that later. They would have to eventually, for there were so many things still left unsaid, so many more obstacles to navigate. But they had overcome the first hurdle. And even if the feeling of hope, the certainty that they could make it, only lasted for a few hours, it would be worth it for Will.

He stood up after a few more moments to brush his teeth, flushing away the lingering taste of Hannibal in his mouth. The way to the bathroom seemed already familiar. He enjoyed the way Hannibal looked when he came back—eyes closed, hair disheveled, soft cock lying in a messy pool of cum and lube and spit. He was so calm, so unwound, so much younger than Will had ever seen him.

It made him feel warmth. Endless, joyful warmth. Will looked into himself and found only his desired happiness. He edged closer to the bed, kneeled next to Hannibal and drew a hand through his short, sweat-soaked hair. A wave of protectiveness swept over him; a desire, first felt in that moment, to shelter the boy who had once existed, the remnants of Hannibal’s innocence, seen and shown for the first time since Mischa.

Minutes trickled by as Will continued to look at him. The warmth never subsided.

“I love you,” Will said.

Hannibal betrayed no reaction. Not a single muscle twitched in his face.

“Hannibal?” Will asked quietly.

Nothing. Just his breathing, soft and even. He had fallen asleep.

Will smiled to himself and lay down against Hannibal’s chest, avoiding the mess of their making. Soon he would join him in dreams, lulled by the soft rocking of their boat and the even beating of Hannibal’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [fragile-teacup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/), for staying up late to look at my fics! I don't know what I would do without you! <3
> 
> Come visit me on my [ tumblr ](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Like what I'm doing? Consider [buying me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A842K38/)!


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